


Overworked

by akaihoshi



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Body Worship, Kinda, LOTS of ORAL, M/M, Mostly Smut, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, PWP, Rim job, Rimming, We Die Like Men, a bit fluffy, discord made me do it, ends up overworking him in other ways, ike trying to find ways of convincing soren not to overwork himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 18:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19978498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaihoshi/pseuds/akaihoshi
Summary: Soren is overworked... in more ways than one.





	Overworked

**Author's Note:**

> Discord made me do it.  
> Takes place between games and assumes that Ike and Soren got together during the three year gap.
> 
> (Celebrating 3H release with some Ike/Soren smut)

“I’m back,” Ike calls casually through the open door of the fort. There’s no response, but he hadn’t expected one. He can hear the rest of the mercenaries chatting faintly from the kitchen as he kicks off his boots and sets his rusting sword on a rack by the door. He’ll need a new one soon; yet another expense to pile on the company books.

He breaths deep and stretches. At least he has some coin to contribute from today’s job. A modest fee plus a generous tip courtesy of his client – although, Ike is fairly certain the tip was more like a sampling of a dowry than an expression of gratitude, given the way the merchant and his daughter leered at him.

Still, coin is coin and Ike is grateful for having it. He may not enjoy his residual fame, but it was at least good for something.

“Has anyone seen Soren?” Ike asks peering into the kitchen from the doorway.

“Why hello Mist, how was your day?” Mist quips at him sarcastically from across the room. He rolls his eyes at her.

“Don’t ask her that,” Boyd drops a freshly peeled potato into a nearby bowl, “It was her turn to cook today and Oscar won’t let her near the stove and she’s upset about it,” Mist slaps him on the back of the head with a scowl, “Ow! Hey, watch it! I’m holding a knife!”

Ike lets out a small snort as the two start to bicker. Titania plucks the paring knife from Boyd’s hand and picks up an unpeeled potato.

“He’s in the storehouse, Ike,” She says.

“Still?” Ike frowns, “That’s where I left him this morning,” He says.

“Then that should have been the first place you looked!” Mia chirps from behind him covered in leaves and toting a large basket of fruit, “Comin’ through, boss!” She pushes passed him and the din of conversation increases with her added enthusiasm.

Ike sets off to find Soren.

\---

True to Titania’s word, Ike finds Soren in the storehouse – or at least what’s left of it. What had been a packed warehouse that morning was now nearly empty with its entire contents stacked and scattered around the outside. It’s a worrying sight.

“Soren?” Ike calls. The mage startles and nearly drops the large clay pot he’s holding.

“Ike,” Soren breathes, a bit surprised, “You’re back,” He sets the pot down and winces slightly when he straightens up.

“Yeah, I’m… back,” He glances around the bare storehouse and then back to Soren, “You didn’t… move all this yourself, did you?”

“I did. Is there a problem?” Soren asks. He looks confident, but there’s an underlying tremor of uncertainty in his tone – the same kind used by a child who’s not quite sure if they’re in trouble or not.

“Not a… problem… exactly…” Ike brushes back his bangs and looks at Soren, covered in dust and sweat, legs shaking slightly from exhaustion. He reaches out unconsciously to touch Soren’s cheek.

He flinches, not out of fear or disgust but simply because these sorts of gestures are new to them. Neither are much for overt displays of affection; neither really know how to respond to them either, but Ike is impulsive, and his desire to touch Soren – even chastely – is a constant one.

He doesn’t retract his fingers. Instead he presses his whole palm to Soren’s cheek until he feels him relax ever so slightly. His eyes close and his head tilts just a little towards Ike’s hand as the tiniest, sweetest smile creeps onto his lips.

“You haven’t eaten today,” Towards anyone else this would be a question, but towards Soren it’s a statement of truth. Scarlet eyes open just enough to be seen and then close again.

“I will once I finish with this,” He says.

“Soren,” Ike groans.

“This has to get done, Ike,” Soren straightens his posture and let’s Ike’s hand slide down his neck to his shoulder.

“But _you_ need to take a break. And you need to eat something,” He drags his hand down the length of Soren’s arm, and laces their fingers together. Soren shivers slightly and it’s not from cold, “C’mon. We can all tackle this together in the morning.”

“But –” Soren protests.

“It’s clear skies, no chance of rain… and all the perishable stuff is in the root cellar or the kitchen, right?” Ike smiles at Soren’s slow nod, “Then leave it. It’ll be fine for one night.”

Soren doesn’t look convinced but he lets himself fall against Ike’s chest – a silent request for a hug that Ike immediately fulfills. He smiles, arms full of Soren, and breathes him in.

Birds land on the storehouse roof, chirping playfully at one another.

“You’re working way too hard lately,” He mumbles into silky black hair.

“No more than usual,” Soren’s voice is muffled against Ike’s jacket.

“Yeah, but we’re not at war anymore. There’s no need to work yourself to death,” Ike says, “You _can_ ask for help you know. Everyone here is trustworthy,” Soren opens his mouth to protest, but Ike interrupts him, “Even Shinon.”

They’re both quiet for a moment.

“I know,” Soren finally says, tightening his grip around Ike’s middle.

“If you know, then why do you still do everything yourself? I’ve barely seen you since we left Melior and we share a room.” Soren tenses in his arms. It gives Ike pause, “Soren...?”

“I…” Soren stammers. He pulls back slightly, enough for Ike to see the uncertainty on his face.

“…Are you avoiding me?” Ike asks. Soren whips his head up in alarm.

“No!” He exclaims, “No, not at all! I just…” He averts his gaze and chews his lower lip.

“You just…?” Ike encourages.

There’s a long moment of silence before Soren responds.

“I can’t stop thinking,” He says. Ike waits for the rest of the thought, but Soren doesn’t voice it.

“Thinking about…?” Ike asks.

“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know,” Soren sounds frustrated, but he takes a deep breath and tries to explain himself, “I keep thinking about the war, and the company and you… and me… a-a-and…” He swallows, “I’m tired… of thinking.”

Ike smiles and pulls him close again. Leave it to Soren to work himself to death just to avoid worrying needlessly.

Ike knows that feeling all too well. He still wakes in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, plagued with nightmares. He knows Soren does too. But Ike’s always been able to put those thoughts out of his mind just by spending time with those he cares about, even if only for a little while. They serve as a reminder of everything he fought for – a reminder that they were alive… and happy.

It’s not as easy for Soren, Ike knows that. He’s so full of insecurities that spending time with others would probably give him even more cause for worry. A war won, a country reclaimed and still he lacks the confidence to believe that he’s something more than a filthy half breed.

And that Ike isn’t simply humoring him with his gentle touches when no one’s watching.

“First,” Ike starts, “we’re going to fill your stomach with food,” Soren snorts at the abrupt change in topic, “And then… we’re going to fill your head with something other than work.”

“I do wish you the best of luck in that endeavor, _commander,_ ” Soren says, pulling away with a slight smirk.

“Hey,” Ike gives his hand a little squeeze, “I think it would be a good thing… for _both_ of us.” Soren looks away, a little bashful as Ike leads him back towards the main living quarters.

“I… I suppose it would.” He says softly.

\----

In his usual fashion, Soren finishes his meal long before the rest and excuses himself quietly to take care of whatever mess he can before Ike has eaten his fill. Somehow, Ike expects to find him back near the storehouse trying to finish cleaning it before he’s found, but instead Ike finds him in their room, a ledger and pen firmly in hand.

“Nope,” He says, plucking both the book and the quill from Soren’s grasp mid-scribble.

“Wh– Ike, what are you doing? I’m –” Soren sputters. Ike shuts the book and sets the quill on the desk.

“My first decree,” He says with a grin, “Is that you are no longer allowed to work after dinner. And yes, that means no books in bed.”

“Decree?” Soren asks, clearly amused but also a little antsy.

“Yes, decree,” Ike takes Soren by the hands and tugs him towards the bed, “No more working after dinner. Spend time with me instead.”

Soren looks at him – really looks at him – doe-eyed and a little apprehensive. He lets himself be pulled onto Ike’s lap, stops himself from asking if he’s allowed to touch and lets his fingers find their own way to Ike’s broad shoulders. Ike tucks Soren’s bangs behind his ear and beckons him closer to steal a kiss.

He meant for it to be quick, a simple invitation, but Soren’s lips are sweet, trembling faintly against his own. Warmth blossoms in Ike’s chest – a feeling akin to hunger. He presses against Soren just a little harder, weaving fingers in loosely braided hair and lets his tongue slide against the seam of Soren’s lips.

They part slowly, a sweet breath passing between them. Soren’s arms curl around Ike’s neck. Ike hooks one arm around his waist and rolls them over until Soren is beneath him, suckling gently on Ike’s lower lip. Soren’s hard; Ike can feel it pressing against his own.

He pulls back, runs his thumb along Soren’s pink lips.

Sex is still new to them. They’ve only slept together a handful of times even while sharing the same bed. They’re usually too busy or too exhausted to do much beyond tangling their limbs together and promptly falling asleep. What few attempts they’ve made were hasty, emotional and admittedly painful at times.

Ike’s never really craved sex the way he knows others do, rarely feels the need to pursue that rush that comes with an orgasm. He enjoys it, but he forgets sometimes that this is something he can ask Soren for. He’s too easily sated by falling asleep together and stealing kisses when no one’s watching. It doesn’t help that Soren lacks the confidence to initiate himself. Ike would never refuse him.

Soren craves sex. Ike’s caught him masturbating on his own far too many times for the source to be mere physical relief. Although, perhaps it’s not sex he craves so much as intimacy.

Just how long has it been since their last attempt at intimacy?

“Ike?” Soren breaths, eyes glazed but sparkling in the candlelight.

Ike hums absently, sinking slowly toward scarlet irises until their lips are touching again. A sharp inhale precedes another kiss.

Then another.

And another.

And then Soren’s clawing at Ike’s bare back, thighs tight around his hips. They break only long enough for Ike to rid him of his night shirt before Soren reaches for him again, naked and trembling.

Ike’s heart beats fiercely in his chest the same way as it does before a decisive battle. His skin is hot, but Soren is cool to the touch despite glittering with tiny droplets of sweat. Ike licks along the length of his lover’s neck, nibbling and suckling every so often just to hear Soren’s sweet gasps.

He loves this, the feeling of Soren falling to pieces beneath his hands. Watching him as he lets go of all his worries, content to be filled with Ike, Ike, Ike and nothing else. Ike wants him to feel good – he deserves to feel good. He does so much for so many and no one but Ike seems to realize it.

Ike digs his thumbs into the stuff muscles beneath Soren’s arms, lips latched onto his throat and chests flush and slick. Soren’s gasps tell Ike everything he needs to know – where he hurts, what feels good, where he wants attention… Every tiny shift in breath ripe with meaning.

Ike shivers, inhales against Soren’s collarbone and bites his way down to those pert pink nipples. He licks one, then pushes hard against it with his tongue until it recedes into the skin, holding it there for a beat before sucking it out and rolling the nub between his teeth. Soren yelps and squirms like he’s in pain, but his dick is rock hard against Ike’s stomach.

“I…. I-Ike…!” Soren gasps, fingers tangling themselves in short blue locks. Ike pulls off Soren’s nipple with a loud smack and moves to the other one. His hand nestles itself in wiry deep-green curls, “W-w-wait! Let me –”

“No,” Ike says, lifting himself up to kiss Soren deeply, “Let me.”

Soren cups Ike’s cheeks and stares up at him.

“…Are you sure…?”

“Yeah,” Ike smiles.

“You don’t want me to…?”

“Not tonight.”

“But –”

“Tonight,” Ike stresses with a kiss to Soren’s palm, “Is about getting you to relax.”

Soren still looks uncertain, but Ike leans in to rest his bare forehead against Soren’s brand.

“I want you to feel good,” Ike murmurs, a little embarrassed about the way his voice shakes, “Really good…”

Soren’s cheeks flush.

“I always feel good,” He whispers back, “I… I feel good when you feel good…”

“And it’s the same for me,” Ike presses a kiss to Soren’s brand and slides he free hand down Soren’s bare thigh.

Ike is vaguely aware of his own erection tenting his loose cotton pants. He could touch himself, but it would only make him ache with the need to bury himself inside his love. He doesn’t want that, not tonight. Tonight is about Soren first.

He can wait.

Soren cannot.

He kisses Soren’s lips one more time, then kisses his way down, down, down to a thick mess of curls and a thick, protruding member. He kisses that too, at the base, a nibble at the middle and another kiss to the tip. Soren trembles beneath him, arms straight and fingers dug into the bedsheets.

The rich scent of musk and salt fill his lungs and something inside of him, carnal and raw, ignites. His dick swells and drips, but he ignores it, breathing deep and relishing the smell he’s rarely permitted to indulge in. It’s so good. His nerves buzz with excitement and it’s all he can do to unclench his jaw and try not to bite Soren like the beast he wants to become.

Ike kisses the small bead of precome at the tip and licks the slit. He smears the salty liquid around that velvety smooth head with his lips then retraces the path with his tongue. He sucks the slit lightly; just enough to draw small mewls of pleasure from his lovers throat, then takes the whole head into his mouth with a gentle suck. His fingers curl around the base of Soren’s penis and with a small, firm pump, he licks the slit once more.

He’s rewarded with a needy whine, so he does it again. And again. Each time he pushes a little harder with his tongue like he’s trying to slip it deep inside.

Soren squirms beneath him doing his best to stay still, gasping and panting. He’s not used to being teased. In fact, he’s not used to being serviced at all. He’s so good at catching Ike off guard, sucking and worshiping him until he comes – then mounting him, rolling his hips exactly the way Ike likes it. It always feels amazing, but Soren doesn’t always finish, too concerned with how Ike feels and what Ike likes.

In truth, Ike likes everything.

But Ike doesn’t want Soren to treat sex like it’s a service. He wants to reciprocate, to spend some nights ruthlessly fucking his lover into the mattress until they’re both spent and exhausted. He wants to lick, and suck and bite and fuck - he wants Soren panting and writhing beneath him, desperate to come and begging selfishly for release. He wants him loose and free, crying out loud enough to wake Mist in the next room.

Ike wants Soren to enjoy himself.

He tongues the slit once more, then swallows the head, rubbing it against the ribbed roof of his mouth. Soren chokes on Ike’s name. He bucks his hips and moans when Ike fists his shaft with painfully slow strokes. He can feel him shiver against his tongue.

He spends minutes on this; sweet, slow, and torturous pumps, languid licks and gentle suction. Soren’s face is wet with tears, his voice hoarse and chest heaving. He wants so badly to come, balls tensing with every move Ike makes, but Ike still isn’t ready to let him finish.

He pulls off, relishing the look of flushed wet cheeks and mussed black hair before sucking the skin at the base of Soren’s dick. He drags his tongue a little farther down but Soren stops him just shy of his destination.

“Ike…” He pants weakly, “Don’t… not that… tonight…” His thoughts are fragmented but somehow Ike understands.

“Why not?” He presses open mouthed kisses to the insides of Soren’s thighs and hoists them over his shoulders while Soren tries to catch his breath.

“I… wasn’t expecting to… receive… today…” Soren hides his face in the pillow, “I didn’t have… a chance to pre… pare…”

“That’s alright,” Ike says, admiring the small spattering of red marks he’s left all over Soren’s milky skin, “I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s not that, it’s…” Soren bites his lip, “It’s not… clean….” He lets out an indignant yelp when Ike lifts his hips to his mouth and presses the flat of his tongue firmly against Soren’s red pucker.

“It’s clean enough,” Ike lets his breath warm Soren’s entrance and kisses it.

“Wh–!? N-no! Ike, don’t!” Soren’s protest dies the second Ike’s tongue slides inside of him.

“See? Totally clean,” Ike slips his tongue back inside and covers the pucker with his mouth.

“Ah… haahh…!” Soren gasps. His shoulders are the only thing still touching the mattress. Ike’s head is nestled between his cheeks, legs coiled around his neck. Ike’s hands are on his ass, pressing into plump skin and spreading him open.

Ike presses his dick to Soren’s back wetting it with his own slick. It’s not much pressure, a feather light touch, but it’s enough sate Ike’s burning desire to bury himself inside his lover.

Soren cries into the pillow. Loud pleasured sobs bubble up from his throat when Ike slips a finger inside of him and presses against his sweet spot. Soren is loose, relaxed, and a second finger soon follows, thrusting inside and providing just enough sensation to be frustrating.

He sucks Soren’s balls in turn, occasionally removing his fingers to tongue his cherry red hole. Precome coats Soren’s chest. Ike smears it around with his free hand, tugs at his nipples, then sucks it off his fingers. Soren watches, a bit dazed and licks his lips subconsciously.

He’s beautiful, Ike thinks to himself, pausing his ministrations just long enough to appreciate the view. Unconsciously he reaches out to touch Soren’s face.

Then suddenly his fingers are in Soren’s mouth and Ike stops moving, transfixed at the sight.

Soren sucks then like they’re some sort of delicious fruit, tongue swirling around each digit, teeth gently scraping the skin. The feeling goes right to his cock. Unconsciously he bucks his hips against the ridge of Soren’s spin.

He’s sensitive, too sensitive, having neglected himself for too long. But he doesn’t want to give in, not yet.

He pulls his fingers from Soren’s sultry lips and uses both hands to spread him wide open. He licks into his twitching hole, breaths on it, moans into it; he lets it tense shut then coaxes it open again.

Soren cries, broken sobs, calls of Ike’s name and pleads for release.

Ike wants to, goddess he wants to. He bucks harder against Soren’s back, four fingers and a tongue fucking him, sloppy but good. He takes Soren’s dick in hand and pumps him once, twice…

With a loud, sinful scream, Soren comes, splattering his face and chest with ribbon after ribbon of thick, white semen. But Ike doesn’t stop. He continues to pump his dick, tongue his twitching hole, and grind against him. Soren shakes as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through him, each punctuated with the sound of Ike’s name on his lips.

Ike sucks in a deep breath but before he can go back in for another taste of his lover’s hole, he’s on his back, a spent penis smearing his cheek with slick and a thoroughly wrecked tactician hovering over him.

He barely has time to register the abrupt switch in positions as Soren untangles his legs from either side of Ike’s head and shakily mounts his cock.

Ike’s eyes roll back into his head as that silken heat envelopes his neglected cock. He grips Soren’s thighs like they’re the only anchor he has to this world and groans as Soren bounces on top of him.

It’s good, it’s good, it’s _so_ good. He wants so badly to come into the twitching hole he spent the better part of an hour lavishing with attention. Soren’s head is thrown back, skin glistening with sweat and come, his dick soft and limp but still dripping.

Yes, this is exactly how Ike wanted him. Loose, free, and selfishly chasing his own pleasure. He deserves this and Ike is pleased.

He starts to laugh; breathless and relaxed, hands running up and down Soren’s sides.

He feels numb in the best way and his orgasm sneaks up on him, tearing at him from the inside. He grips Soren’s hips harder, forcing the pace and fucking his way to bliss. He bottoms out and holds him still, shuddering to completion.

It’s hot.

And wet.

Soren collapses on his chest, and shivers when Ike’s soft dick slips free of him. They lay like that for a long while, heartbeats thrumming in time as they catch their breath.

Ike is suddenly very aware of how quiet it is and wonders if Soren fell asleep. He’s careful when he lifts him and lays him back down properly on the pillows. His eyes open only slightly, accompanied by a weak smile.

Ike smiles back, brushes wet hair away from his face.

“I love you,” He says softly.

Soren’s breathing stops for a moment. He gives Ike a shy smile, catching Ike’s hand with his own.

“Me too,” Soren whispers.

“…And you’re taking tomorrow off.” Ike says with a coy grin. Soren manages a very weak laugh.

“Understood,” He beckons Ike down for a small kiss, “ _Commander_.”


End file.
